


Outside Voice

by tiamatv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Sam Winchester is Not Amused, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/pseuds/tiamatv
Summary: Dean is pretty sure he hasn't done anything to deserve what Cas is offering him. Because it sure as hell seems like Cas is trying to grope him. In a parking lot. Against Dean's Baby.(But he's also pretty sure he's not going to say "No.")
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 25
Kudos: 230





	Outside Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jemariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel/gifts).



> Written for a random Profound Bond spontaneous Storytime on July 7th, 2020. Jem accidentally fed the smut muse and the smut muse retaliated by spitting this out. I'm so sorry, Jem.
> 
> This is vaguely season... 5ish? 6ish, I suppose? (Does it really matter? No, it probably doesn't. This is unbetaed. There is no plot. This is just silliness and smut.)

Sometimes, Dean knew he’d just asked for it. He’d said something sassy. He’d said _everything_ sassy. He’d drunk a little too much and got handsy. He’d gotten a little too flirty with Cas. He’d gotten a little too flirty with someone who _wasn’t_ Cas.

But he had really, truly, _honestly_ been minding his own fucking business, this time.

“Wait, _Cas_ , buddy, what are you—” Dean hissed, trying to draw back, then “ _Hey!”_ as Cas’s fingers, looped into his belt, tugged him back towards the Impala hard enough that Dean’s chest thumped against the top edge of the open window. He caught himself on the roof with both hands, but that wasn’t exactly enough to pull him back against a force of nature yanking on his pants.

Dean wedged his torso back and stared down in confusion at the very literal angel sitting in the driver’s seat of Dean’s Baby. Wait, not sitting—kneeling. Cas had both his legs curled under him on the bench seat and he was facing out at Dean. His shoulders were fitted between steering wheel and back, and he had his weight on his calves. He had one forearm resting against the open window, and his goddamned _trench coat_ pooled over his back and on the seat.

His look of determination as he peered up at Dean, very serious, could’ve shifted a small mountain.

Well, this was weirder than normal, and Dean could say that as someone who’d started an Apocalypse, _stopped_ an Apocalypse, and also had this particular angel _very literally_ riding his ass.

Also, when he’d unlocked the Impala’s driver’s seat, there hadn’t been an angel sitting there, and now, there definitely _was_.

“Okay, okay,” Dean laughed and batted at Cas’s hands, but Cas didn’t release him. In fact, Cas narrowed his eyes at him as if looking deeper than Dean generally wanted anyone to see, and he pulled harder at Dean’s belt as if he’d forgotten how it worked. “Hey, let go. What’s gotten into your feathers today, buddy, seriously—”

Cas let go of his belt, but only for long enough to curl his fingers back together and run the back of his knuckles, a gentle rasping slide, down the front of Dean’s jeans. Dean barely had a moment to suck in a shocked breath before Cas went for his button with both hands.

“ _Whoa!_ ” Dean yelped, and reached down to grab him by the wrists. Cas’s skin was warm even through the cuffs of his button-down, the tendons flexing gently against Dean’s fingers. But he wasn’t tense the way he was when something was wrong. “What the—”

“You didn’t rest well last night,” Cas informed him, squinting with displeasure. “This case has you frustrated, and you are snapping at your brother, at the witnesses, and at _me._ You need to relax.”

Cas said that like he’d tell Dean that he was gonna go to the corner store and get him a piece of pie and a Slurpee to make him feel better.

Cas couldn’t possibly be saying what Dean thought he was. Nope. Easy, Winchester. Had it really been that long since they’d fucked, that _that_ was where Dean’s brain had gone?

Cas was staring _straight_ at his crotch.

Dean opened his mouth and closed it.

Well, shit, maybe he could.

Sure, Dean had been sharing the motel room with Sam, so it wasn’t like Cas could’ve had this conversation with him at any other time. _And_ Sam had been up most of the night while Dean made his way through the better part of a watery six-pack, saying “ _So get this_ ” about things that over the course of the evening Dean increasingly just fucking did _not get_. What the hell did Dean know or care about medical insurance fraud, other than how to commit it?

So yeah, there’d been no fooling around last night. Yeah, this case was dancing on Dean’s last nerve. None of that actually explained why Cas was trying to stick his hands down Dean’s pants here in the _parking lot_.

“What?” Dean managed.

Cas narrowed his eyes up at him like he was surprised he even had to explain. “The endorphins would be very beneficial to you.”

Dean really didn’t know whether Cas made him want to laugh or cry sometimes. “So you couldn’t have, I dunno, bamfed in while I was in the shower this morning, or something?”

(He was joking. Mostly.)

“That shower is not a soothing space,” Cas told him primly.

Dean _snorted._ And this was, what, a day at the spa?

“And I thought you might enjoy being in contact with Baby. This seemed a rather ideal angle.” Cas nodded out the window, and vaguely Dean thought that it was probably at the curb that Dean was standing on, but he still wasn’t sure he _understood_.

“Angle?” he asked, dumbly.

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “But if you don’t want it,” he said, smiling with that little sweet curve at the line of his mouth that said he knew what the answer was gonna be, fuck him anyway. He leaned just enough out the window to press his face against the line of Dean’s hip, because all of Dean’s motor coordination had lost its starter and he hadn’t even _stepped back_ from where Cas had yanked him against Baby’s door.

His next words were rumbled through Dean’s t-shirt, the tightest little vibration that almost made it to his skin. His thumb rubbed gently under his jacket, just at the edge where Dean’s t-shirt overlapped his jeans. His fingers tucked almost, but not quite, underneath the hem. “We will stop whenever you want.”

Then he sat back on his heels. His hand wasn’t even _touching_ where Dean was already more than half-hard in his jeans. All he did was rest his palm there against Dean’s waist.

Cas didn’t move his hand. He didn’t try to pet, try to stroke.

He didn’t have to.

“ _Guh_ ,” Dean managed, and raised his head just enough to look around in a jerky glance. It was early enough in the morning that the air was bright and cool and a little sharp. They had a corner spot in the motel parking, like Dean always preferred, with nothing behind him but a stubby little fake tree and a stretch of concrete with a door marked ‘UTILITIES, KEEP OUT.’

At this angle, he could see the entirety of the motel’s lot, all of the room doors. Hell, he was pretty sure they were the only ones _staying_ _here_. The Impala was the only car in the lot. When they’d checked in they’d been informed that there wasn’t even a night manager.

But they were still very fucking much in public, and it was still a _parking lot._

“Cas, man, we can’t—" he started, reluctantly.

Cas nodded calmly, and pulled back his hand.

Dean didn’t even know that he was going to reach out and grab it until he looked down and found Cas’s fingers curled gently against his. Cas blinked innocently up at him.

“But, uh, what, uh… so what were you thinkin’ of?” Dean asked in a hoarse whisper.

Cas brightened. Holy shit. He visibly fucking _brightened_ like Dean had given him a present, sitting up straighter in his weird sideways perch. Cas smiled up at him, eyelashes just starting to shade his blue eyes, and Dean contemplated that there was something seriously wrong with him that he found that expression on Cas _really_ damned cute. “Don’t you want to find out?” Cas rumbled.

Goddammit. He did. He really, _really_ did.

“ _Dammit_ ,” Dean muttered. Whatever happened to ‘lead me not into temptation’ anyway? “Dammit, _Cas_.”

Cas didn’t even give him the pleasure—ha ha—of going right for the money. He reached out again, his thumb stroking gently at the curve of Dean’s waist. The damned angel was smiling like he’d been the one to discover original sin and found out that that apple tasted really good. “Undo your jeans for me, please.”

Dean didn’t mistake that for a request. There was polite and there was _polite._

He couldn’t have said exactly _why_ he reached down and popped his belt and button open, undoing his zipper carefully to keep the teeth from catching at where his boxers were already shoved up against the metal. But he knew exactly why he was more than half-erect in them already.

Shit, Cas watching him like that was always gonna do it for him, blue eyes fixed on the shaky movement of Dean’s hands like he was watching a perfect sunrise. Cas’s hand stayed resting on his waist, not moving as Dean spread his fly open.

“Oh, _Dean_ ,” Cas breathed, and his voice was deep and dark and so pleased that Dean shuddered, leaning forward against Baby’s frame for support. His knees knocked against the metal. “Yes.”

On any other day, Dean knew he’d have been really fucking embarrassed at how hard he was when he carefully took himself out from inside his boxers. He _should_ be embarrassed: here he was, leaning against the open window of his own damned car, fully dressed except for his cock hanging out of his pants. No-one had laid a finger on him and he was hard enough to drip.

With Cas watching him, none of that ever seemed to matter.

Cas only looked back into his eyes for long enough to smile. “Lean towards me. Put your hands on Baby’s roof, please.” He cocked his head a little. “You will probably have to tiptoe. Just a little. You won’t have any leverage. I apologize for that.” Cas sounded not even remotely sorry _at all._

Dean blinked. Tiptoe? _Leverage?_ Uh… “What for?”

Cas leaned just a little into the frame of the window, peered up at him, and opened his mouth. And stayed there.

Dean’s consciousness left him for a few heartbeats.

When Dean just _stared_ at the angel who sure as hell looked like he was asking for his face to get fucked, a smile tightened the little creases at the corners of Cas’s blue eyes. His tongue—too goddamned pink to be real—strayed out and moistened the full circle of his parted lips.

One eyebrow tilted upwards. _Well?_ It said.

 _Fuck_.

It was Cas’s hand that wrapped around him and gently tugged, the touch almost delicate, nearly considerate. The cool brush of dry fingers was as much a tease as the little puff of breath that Cas blew over where the head of Dean’s cock was already flushed and ready. It was Cas’s full lips that rested just against Dean’s slit, Cas’s tongue peeking just into it in an electric slide that almost knocked Dean off his tiptoes and back down to his heels. It was Cas’s eyes sliding half-closed as more of Dean disappeared into his mouth.

But it was _Dean_ who leaned in and rested both hands and his forehead against Baby’s night-cool metal. It was _Dean_ who shoved up onto his tiptoes to get closer. It was Dean who had to swallow the groan that threatened his throat, because _Jesus fuck_ this was either the worst idea they’d ever had, or the best.

Cas sucked cock like he had all the time in the world—like he’d been doing it since the beginning of existence and had no plans to ever stop. Like they weren’t wedged in the corner of a parking lot; like Dean’s thighs weren’t trembling from the effort of holding himself up.

Cas was neat at it—he always was, never sloppy, and whenever he tried to be it always came out more ridiculous than sexy. The inside of his mouth was never too wet, and no matter how often they did this, Cas almost always made these tiny little noises of discovery.

(Dean would’ve called them _chirps_ and _purrs_ if not for the fact that Cas was making them around, well, _him_.)

Cas also had no gag reflex whatsoever, like he’d never realized he was supposed to have one. They’d both found out in the best fucking possible way that he _really_ liked to just hold Dean deep and swallow, his hands resting lightly on the crests of Dean’s hips without so much as a finger on his cock.

So yeah, Dean was in the process of trying not to blow his load embarrassingly quickly, ‘frustration’ be damned anyway, when the door to his and Sam’s motel room smacked open.

With Cas’s fucking _throat_ doing those little impossible tugs that stroked and pulled right at the very head of him, Dean still almost didn’t hear his brother coming out of their room because his heart was beating so loudly in his ears. Actually, he really _didn’t_ hear him until Sam called out, “Hey, Dean, what d’you think of going to the station before we get breakfast?”

Dean’s head rocketed off Baby’s roof with enough force that he almost toppled himself backwards. A hand on his hip steadied him. He hadn’t even felt Cas move, his cock still—

Holy shit, Cas _hadn’t_ moved.

Cas was still looking up at him with his mouth full, lips stretched tight, and his eyes smiling.

It was almost over right then.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean hissed through his teeth, then wrenched his chin back up to check that Sammy hadn’t heard. Sam was juggling the motel keys and his bag, and the fact that the door wasn’t hung right so it had to be banged a certain way before it’d shut.

Cas pulled the rest of the way off him with a slow, pursed-lip ‘pop’ of suction that left Dean clutching desperately at the edge of the open window, one of his hands slipping in the thin film of his own sweat. He grabbed for the metal of the front edge, but it wasn’t hot enough _or_ cool enough to distract him away from the fact that his angel was sucking his cock out where _anyone_ could see them.

“He won’t see me. I can shield us with my wings.” Cas raised both eyebrows. “Though you’ll have to be quiet. There’s little I can do about that.”

Anyone who fucking thought those blue eyes of Cas’s were _innocent_ was fooling himself. Herself. Themselves. _Whatever_.

“Dean? What do you think? Station or breakfast?”

“Uh…” Dean struggled for whatever brain wasn’t being sucked out of his dick right now, but he was finding there really wasn’t much there. Sam wasn’t looking at them. At him. He… oh God. “I, uh, dunno, Sammy, there was no way those cops were gonna talk to Feds, and they—”

Dean’s voice cracked as Cas, completely casually, went back to what he’d been doing _before_ Sam had opened the door.

Shit, _shit._ Dean resisted the urge to put his head back down on Baby’s roof, but Christ, what the Hell was that that Cas was doing with his _tongue_?! Those little flicks were just—

“I guess, but…” Sam grumbled and hefted his duffel bag, then peered into it, pawing at the contents. “Oh. Wait. Do you have my laptop power adapter? I didn’t see it when I was putting stuff away.” Sam scowled. Dean really didn’t fucking care. ”We really have to get you your own again, Dean.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, sure. My bag.” Dean was pretty sure about that. Almost certain. Or as much as he was certain of anything, right now. “In the trunk. Yeah.”

Sam gave him a suspicious look. Dean tried to straighten. He was almost sure Sam was looking at him like that because of the… the… what had Sam been asking about? Something that _wasn’t_ the angel whose mouth was moving on Dean’s cock. “You’re sure?” his eyes narrowed. “Are you okay? You look—your face is all red.”

Cas gave him a long slurp that Dean thought they should have been able to hear in _Wisconsin,_ and Dean’s toes curled so hard in his boots that his ankles almost gave out under him.

“ _Yeah_ , I’m sure.” Dean spread all ten of his fingers wide on the roof, pressing his palms to Baby’s heavy metal and hoping, just hoping that it was enough of a tug, enough of a _contact_ , to ground him. It wasn’t, not when Cas had just tightened his lips. “What? So I had a couple of drinks last night, w-what the fuck d’you want?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna check inside one last time, and if my power cord’s still plugged in under your bed, I swear to _God,_ Dean—"

Cas _humphed,_ very softly, around Dean’s cock, a quick vibration of voice and breath. Dean didn’t dare look down, but what the fuck. Really, _really,_ it was the swearing to God that was gonna rile him up? _Seriously, Cas?!_

Dean didn’t hear Sam go back into their room. He didn’t hear much of anything other than soft suction and the pounding of his own pulse as Cas’s bright sin of a mouth slid up and down his length, an occasional little noise from Cas’s throat that almost sounded _cheerful_.

He’d thought that Cas was going to town on him already. He hadn’t had the least fucking idea.

Dean felt his fingers curl into fists as Cas bobbed on him—felt his nails drag in the thin, slick layer of wax on the Impala’s dark metal, warm and slippery now with his own sweat and the weight of his own skin. He wasn’t gonna be able to hold himself up much longer—he wasn’t, his knees were shaking, or maybe that was his thighs, or maybe that was just fucking all of him—

When he came, it was panting and muffled with his weight on his arms, the condensation of his breath blurring the shining surface of Baby’s roof, and the tip of Cas’s nose tucked almost delicately against the folds of his boxers.

He didn’t know if what he was feeling was tongue or suction or goddamned eternity. He couldn’t remember Cas’s name to say it. He wasn’t sure he could remember his _own_.

Cas just sort of hung out there for long enough that finally, Dean could actually hear something other than his own breathing. When Cas pulled off him and blinked, looking very smug, there was not a drop of come to be seen anywhere. Those damned lips of his were wet, but not puffy or swollen. His eyes were tipped up at the corners in a smile, but they weren’t watering the way they should’ve been with Dean twitching down his throat. Then Cas sat up and straightened his own _tie_ , looking so pleased with himself that Dean wasn't sure whether he should be leaning in to kiss him or reaching out to pat him on the head.

Dean thought with a hit of shaky hysteria that looking at Cas, there was no clue that anything had ever happened at all.

Cas licked his lips thoughtfully, and with a delicacy that left Dean shuddering, tucked him neatly back in. He zipped up Dean’s denim with a soft, tender purr. With the way his ears were still kind of ringing and half his world right now was white noise, Dean wasn’t even sure if the raspy little noise was coming from the zipper being drawn up or from Cas.

He _knew_ it was from Cas when Cas leaned forward and a pair of soft lips pressed, just once, to the bulge at the front of Dean’s jeans. There was a soft rustling snap of wings. When Dean dared a shaky glance down, Baby’s front seat was empty again.

“Dean, are you…” Sam approached the passenger seat through the empty parking lot, and eyed him with about a dozen concerned crinkles appearing on his forehead. “What—are you _hung over_? What the hell, man, how much did you drink last night?! Look, I’m gonna drive.”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean slurred, and put his head down on the edge of the roof. Not even Sam’s disapproval could bother him right now. “Yeah, that’d probably be good.”

He was really gonna have to get frustrated more often.

~fin~

July 7, 2020

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happened right in the middle of the day when I was supposed to be doing paperwork. Sigh.
> 
> All of these lovely prompts, ideas and postings come from the [Profound Bond Discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond). Come join us!


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